An Amnesiac Love
by NinjalyJen
Summary: A France x Reader reader insert love story. When you wake up from a brutal attack on your country with amnesia, why is it that the only country you partially remember is France? And why is France being so touchy about what happened to your country? You are convinced to find all the answers to your questions.
1. Chapter 1

The meadows were lush and green, soft against your bare s/c feet. A gentle breeze passed by, causing your soft h/c hair to blow in the wind. This was an absolute paradise, yet you felt that something was missing.

"_? _Mon cher_, can you hear me?"

A small smile broke out on your face. That voice… it sounded so familiar, yet…

Your smile faded. You had no idea who it was that was calling you.

"Hello?" Your voice came out in a croak.

"_Mon Dieu_ – Doctor, she's talking! She's talking!"

Your brow furrowed in confusion. Doctor? What doctor? And why did it sound like the voice was speaking in another language half of the time?

Suddenly, the wind stopped. The image of the meadow of perfection slowly faded away. Within seconds, it was gone.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Ugh…" A light moan escaped your lips, and you fluttered your eyes open. Instead of seeing a clear blue sky and a green meadow, you saw an IV bag hanging on an electronic stand (which was the maker of that weird beeping noise), some kind of gas mask over your nose and mouth, and a set of unbelievably white walls.

"Where am I?" You murmured.

"Oh my God, _cheri_, I can't believe it."

A voice. _'The voice in my dream,' _you thought to yourself. Gently and slowly, you turned your head towards the voice. A line of pain whizzed through your neck at the motion, causing you to shriek and immediately stay put.

"Shh," A warm hand gently stroked your cheek, and the face belonging to the mysterious voice came to view.

The man was quite young – probably only in his mid-twenties. He had shoulder-length blonde hair, a slight outcrop of stubble on his chin and cheeks, and blue eyes that looked very concerned.

"Don't try to move." The man said in a thick French accent. "You're still in bad shape from the attacks."

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "A-attacks? I don't… um, I don't know you."

A surge of shock rippled across the man's blue eyes. His hand stopped stroking your face. "Y-you don't… you don't remember anything?"

A slight pang hit your heart, and your feeling from earlier intensified. You should know this man.

But the fact remained that you didn't know him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. And can you please stop touching me?"

The man pulled back his hand, looking shocked and somewhat hurt, and very concerned. "Do you know who you are?"

At that moment, you felt completely helpless. You felt like a scared and vulnerable kitten - unable to defend yourself and unable to run. You shook your head 'no'.

"Oh no," Was all that the man said.

"Ms. Price, you're awake." A second masculine voice entered the room.

You cringed. This was a voice you didn't recognize.

The man walked up to your bedside. He was wearing a long white coat and had a stethoscope hung around his neck; a doctor.

"Ms. Price," The doctor said, looking between you and a computer-like machine that you had failed to notice earlier. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't remember anything." You said, slowly and carefully, as if you were afraid that the doctor was suddenly going to whip out a knife or something. _'Chill out.' _You reprimanded yourself. _'Just because you can't remember a bloody thing doesn't mean that everyone's out to get you.'_

The doctor's facial expression became grim. "As I suspected, you've got amnesia; the loss of your memory. Do you know who you are?"

In a voice that seemed scared to admit it, you answered him. "No,"

The doctor nodded. "Well, your name is _ Price."

_ Price. _ was what the blonde man had called you in your dream. In a weird way, knowing that the blonde man had been right made you feel a bit better.

"Who is he?" You made a weak and painful motion with your hand towards the Frenchman. "I… I feel like I should know him."

At your words, the Frenchman seemed to relax a bit – not much, but a bit. "I am Francis Bonnefoy, _." He said gently. "I'm the personification of France."

He was the personification of a country? Somehow, that didn't seem out of the ordinary.

"Ms. Price," The doctor said. "You're the personification of a little island country on the coast of Europe called Amadallo. One month ago, your capital city, Leadsbrook, was bombed by," The doctor paused. "Well, it was bombed by terrorists. Only two days after, Amadallo had a severe earthquake which caused a large amount of damage to the country – to you." Lines of pain appeared on the doctor's face. "Half of the population was killed, and the government was put into chaos. I'm sorry, _."

"No," The word slipped from your mouth, and you stared into space. You couldn't believe it. Your country had almost died. _You _had almost died. Granted, you didn't remember what your country looked like, or the customs its people followed, but it was _your _country. You could feel its pain. You knew how big of an issue this was. No wonder you had amnesia.

You looked over at the Frenchman – Francis, his name was. "Are you my ally or something?"

Francis looked down at the ground uncomfortably. "Well, uh, not exactly _cheri_. You see, uh…"

"Mr. Bonnefoy," The doctor said. "I'm going to need a bit of time with my patient. How about you come back in a couple of hours? And tell the others to stay out for a while, please."

Francis looked torn. It was as if half of him wanted to run off gladly, but the other half wanted to stay with you, to see for himself that you were going to be okay. Finally, he responded, "Of course, Dr. Radcliffe." He turned to you and nodded. "_Madmoiselle_ Price," And with that he left, leaving you in a whirlwind of confusion.

Only minutes ago, you had believed that your dreams were your life. Now you were in the real world, an amnesiac, a personified country who was barely keeping herself together, and on top of it all, you knew deep inside that Francis Bonnefoy was important to all of this. The thing you didn't know was why or how. But there was one thing that you did know.

All of this was giving you a killer headache.

While Dr. Radcliffe started injecting you with medicine, making sure your oxygen mask was working, and taking a sample of your blood, your eyes started to droop shut. What you truly needed was a nap. You knew that when you woke up, all of this would make sense. Maybe you'd even remember this Francis Bonnefoy guy.

And so you fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, your brain was a lot clearer, but you still couldn't remember anything about your past. You were given a warm breakfast, which you were grateful for, since you hadn't eaten real food in over a week. After that, Doctor Radcliffe came in and told you that you would be receiving two visitors around lunchtime. This excited you, as you were anxious to find out more about your life and yourself.

Unfortunately for you, lunchtime didn't seem to come fast enough. You killed time by watching a show on TV called _The Three Stooges_, but in your opinion, it was a little weird.

Finally, the time came.

"Twelve o' clock," You murmured to yourself. "Beautiful twelve o' clock,"

Suddenly, you heard the sound of your door creaking open. "Ms. Price?"

You sat up in your bed, wincing a bit at the pain of your injuries. "Are they here, Dr. Radcliffe?"

The doctor smiled and nodded. "Yes. Now, Ms. Price, if any of this is too overwhelming for you, or your guests are making you feel uncomfortable, just push the red button on your bed. A nurse will come in right away."

You nodded, though you highly doubted that something this exciting could make you feel uncomfortable or nervous. "Thanks, Doctor."

Doctor Radcliffe nodded. "I'll let them in." He turned and said something to some people behind the door, and then left. Seconds after this, two people walked into your room.

The man was tall and in shape. He had medium-length blonde hair, mischievous green eyes, and he was wearing a colour-coordinated outfit that suited him well. The woman was a smiling brunette wearing a simple T-shit and a skirt who had a glint in her eyes that could easily get her labeled a 'bad girl'.

"Hey, _," The man said in a thick accent that you couldn't quite place.

"Do you remember us?" The woman pushed a long lock of brown hair out of her eyes as she spoke.

You shook your head. "Sorry, I don't remember you."

To your surprise, neither of them looked downcast. Then you realized that Doctor Radcliffe and that familiar guy from yesterday – Francis – must have told them about your amnesia.

"So," you said. "How do you two know me?"

"We're, like, your closest allies." The man said. "I'm Feliks Łukasiewicz, the totally cool personification of Poland."

_Oh man, _you thought to yourself with a grin. _If these two are my closest allies, I __**really **__want to remember what my life was like._

"I'm Elizabeta Héderváry, personification of Hungary." Elizabeta smiled. "Don't worry, _, we'll help you get back on your feet in no time."

You smiled back at Elizabeta. "Thanks."

"Hey! I almost forgot." Feliks exclaimed. "I, like, brought a scrapbook of yours that you made before the accident." He held up a fair-sized black album with lacey blue letters on the front that spelled out _ PRICE.

"Thanks, Feliks." You took the photo album from him and weakly set it on your lap, wincing at the pain. "So, um, is there any news from my country?"

Elizabeta nodded. "There's good news, and bad news. The good news is that-"

A random up-beat song started playing. Elizabeta frowned and whipped out her phone. Her frown deepened as she read what was on the phone's screen. "That stupid Prussian," she said loathsomely.

Your eyebrows knit together in concern. "What's wrong?"

"Gilbert," Elizabeta glowered, as if that explained everything.

You turned to Feliks and gave him a 'help me' look.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt," He said. "is the personification of Prussia. Elizabeta totally doesn't like him. He's way too much of a narcissist."

At the same moment you nodded to Feliks, you heard Elizabeta mumble, "Why that little…" along with a few other choice words.

The Hungarian nation sighed and pocketed her cell phone. "I'm sorry, _, I've got to go. Gilbert…" a sour look formed on her face. "Well, he's being Gilbert." A half-hearted smile took place of the frown. "I'll see you later, okay?"

You nodded. "No problem, Elizabeta. It was nice meeting you. Or, uh, seeing you,"

Elizabeta shot you one last smile, then made her way out the door, cursing as she went.

"Well," you said, filling in the awkward silence. "She swears a lot."

Feliks laughed. "Yeah, she's kind of known for being a potty-mouth."

You smiled. "Yeah,"

"I can stay for a bit longer if you want."

"Sure. Oh, and Feliks," you turned your attention towards the Polish nation standing by your bedside. "I have a question."

"Shoot,"

"It's regarding Francis Bonnefoy. He seemed kind of… I don't know… uneasy, when he was here yesterday." You looked up at Feliks curiously. "Do you know why?"

Suddenly, Feliks's facial expression seemed a little less carefree. "Well... that's, like, some serious stuff there."

You froze. "Oh God," you said. "We weren't together or something, were we? 'Cause I don't remember-"

Feliks chuckled and hastily shook his head. "Nah, nothing like that; you weren't with, like, anyone."

"Oh," you let out a sigh of relief. "That's good."

Feliks made a waving gesture with his hand as if to say, _forget about it. _"So," he said. "Do you wanna look at that scrapbook with me?"

You nodded with a smile, though you were inwardly annoyed. Why was no one telling you anything about Francis? Since they weren't telling you, you decided that it must be something important. But what? And, you realized, Elizabeta had left before she could tell you the new information on your country.

But you couldn't do anything about it now – Elizabeta had left. So, putting a false smile on, you started to look through the scrapbook with Feliks.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been three days ago that the human counterparts of the countries of Poland and Hungary had visited you in your hospital room. And, for reasons you couldn't fathom, they had been your only visitors. It was driving you mad to be stuck in your room alone, especially now that you were physically feeling much better. Dr. Radcliffe had insisted that you stay a few more days so that he could monitor your progress, but you had thought that that was a ridiculous decision. He had only laughed, saying to calm down and telling you that your annoyed attitude was a sure sign of progress. This, of course, had only made you more annoyed.

For the past three days, you had been entertaining yourself with the scrapbook that Feliks had left behind. You had now read it over exactly fifteen times, and it really surprised you to know how many nations you actually got along with. Of course, there were the two that you had talked to two days prior, but there were also a whole other handful of nations you seemed to have fun with. Someone known as Alfred F. Jones - the human personification of the United States of America - seemed to be a good friend of yours. There were many pictures in the scrapbook of the two of you laughing and goofing off. There were also pictures of you and Arthur Kirkland (the United Kingdom, whom almost everyone regarded as England), Matthew Williams (Canada), Wang Yao (China), and many other personified countries. According to the photographs, you were less comfortable posing for a picture with certain nations, and others you were more than happy to chat with or pose for a picture with. But there was one really odd thing.

Among all the nations whose pictures were within the scrapbook, there was one familiar face that was missing. Within all the pages of the scrapbook, not once was there a picture of Francis Bonnefoy.

The fact that you couldn't solve the mystery about the nation of France, no matter how hard you tried, was driving you as insane as the fact that you weren't out of the hospital yet. What could be the reason that he seemed so familiar, yet no one wanted to tell you a thing about him? Not even your scrapbook held even the tiniest clue.

"Ms. Price?"

The voice of Dr. Radcliffe pulled you out of your train of thought.

You looked up from the scrapbook that lay on your lap. "Yes, Doctor?"

The man was smiling. "I have good news. All of your tests in the past few days have been completely perfect. I'm releasing you now."

Your heart beat faster in your chest. Really? You were really being let on your own, after such a long wait?

"That's great, Doctor," You said, almost breathlessly.

Dr. Radcliffe laughed a little. "I thought you'd be excited. Now, I've got a few people here to bring you to a safe place while your country is still in confusion."

"Wait," You said. "You mean that I can't go home? How will I be able to remember if I don't-"

Dr. Radcliffe raised his hands. "Hold on, hold on; there's more to the story. You remember that your country is in great turmoil right now, right?" At your nod, he continued. "I don't want you to go back to your house for a while yet. It's... well, it's in pretty bad shape right now. Until the government cleans up a little bit, I wouldn't recommend that you go back yet."

Great; there was yet another roadblock to your recovery. In spite of the setback, you nodded your head. "Where will I be going?"

"A good place," The doctor smiled. "You met two of your allies the other day, right? Well, they aren't your only allies. The country of Amadallo was also very strongly allied with a nation called Canada."

"Canada," You said. "His picture is in my scrapbook."

"Yes," Dr. Radcliffe said. "You'll be staying with him at his house until you're a little more recuperated."

Well, staying with a close ally would help your memory. "Is he here?"

Dr. Radcliffe nodded. "He's out in the waiting room. I'll let you get freshened up before you come out. Here," He held out a full plastic bag. "Elizaveta brought these for you."

You took the plastic bag, feeling a little jolt of pain in your arm as you did so. "Awesome," You looked into the bag. A pair of jeans, a pretty T-shirt, a pair of socks, a pair of dark leather boots, a leather wristband, and a hairbrush were in the bag.

"Well, I'll leave you to change." Dr. Radcliffe headed to the door. "Come out when you're ready." He then left the room, closing the door behind him.

A feeling of excitement bubbled up inside of you. This was it. You were really going to get out of this hospital – and better yet, you were going to meet an ally on the way.

You took a bit of time getting your fresh clothing on, but this was only because you were still in pain from your injuries. Once you were done, you brushed your long h/c hair, grabbed your scrapbook, and then made your way out of the room. Just like the interior of your room, the rest of the hospital was pretty much white. There were doctors and nurses everywhere, and you had no idea where you were going. You held onto your scrapbook a little tighter. Where were you supposed to go? There was no sign of Matthew Williams anywhere. Where could-

"_ Price?

You walked towards the voice. "Hello?" You turned a corner, and before you knew it, you were standing right in front of a blonde-haired man wearing glasses and a distinctive sweatshirt with a maple leaf on it.

"_," Matthew said, breathing a sigh of relief. "It's so good to see you again. I was really worried about you, and I've been doing all I can to help Amadallo." He looked you over. "I guess you're feeling better now, eh?"

You nodded, feeling a little awkward at Matthew's obviously caring outburst. "Yeah, I'm feeling a lot better. Um, sorry I don't remember you."

A gentle smile appeared on Matthew's face. "Don't apologize, _. It's just good to have you back. Here," He extended a hand to you. "We'd better get going."

You couldn't help but smile. Even though you didn't remember him, you were impressed that Matthew was being so kind. Yeah, you had good taste in friends. You took his hand. "Sounds good," With that, the two of you began to walk towards the hospital doors. Finally, you were out of the hospital. You were finally walking the road to your recovery.

_Author's Note: Okay, so we're finally out of that bloody hospital! This will make story progress easier for me. Thanks to everyone who has followed, favourited, and reviewed! You all make my day when I check this story's stats._

_The next chapter shall answer some questions about France. Stay tuned until then, and please tell me what you think about this chapter!_


	4. Chapter 4

Matthew Williams' home was absolutely beautiful. It was constructed out of wood; cedar shingles were set tightly onto the old-style log house frame. A large deck overlooked a beautiful lake, and behind the house stood the great Rocky Mountains. Maple trees, pine trees, cedar trees – even trees that had names you didn't even know were clustered around the area, and large, evergreen forests were everywhere you looked.

"Wow," you said when you and Matthew got out of his truck. "You live here?"

"Yeah," Matthew blushed and scratched the back of his head. "It's nothing too fancy, but it is home. Come on," he walked up to the front door and beckoned for you to follow. "I'll show you where you'll be staying."

The two of you walked inside the house. Not surprisingly, the inside of the house was just as beautiful as the outside. Real hardwood floor overlaid every inch of the house, and the occasional rug was placed to give the room more of a homey feel. To your left, there was a living room equipped with leather furniture, a real wood-burning fireplace, antlers mounted on the walls, and a coffee table in the middle of it all holding a large, silver cup.

You pointed questioningly to the cup. "I know that. Is that...?"

"Yeah, it's the Stanley Cup." Matthew smiled. "It's one of the most famous Canadian items ever. It's the greatest prize in hockey, and being as I'm Canada, I get to keep it sometimes. It's a good deal, eh?"

You nodded, unable to stop Matthew's small, innocent joy flood over to you. "Yeah, I think so too."

"Here," Matthew began to walk straight ahead, to where a wooden staircase started. "Up here is a guest room you can use. I put in a few things that are important to our friendship, just so you might remember."

A large smile appeared on your face. Matthew was just the sweetest guy!

"Thank you so much." You said, starting up the stairs with him. "It must be kind of weird for you... you know, having your friend totally forget you."

"It's okay, really," Matthew said, guiding you down a hallway once you two reached the top of the stairs. "I mean, I want to do all that I can to help you. And even though I'm sad that you got hurt, I'm not angry about it." Matthew's eyes met your own, and as you looked at him, you could see that he was telling the truth.

"Thanks," you said, feeling really appreciated for the first time you could remember.

Matthew blushed and looked down. "It's no problem." He whispered. "Now, um, your room is over here." He quickly began to walk down the hallway, with you following closely behind. When you two finally reached the last door, Matthew opened it, saying, "I'll give you some time to get settled. If you need anything, I'll be downstairs." And so, the sweet but shy man left, leaving you alone in the guest bedroom.

"Wow," you said, looking around the room with wide eyes. "Matthew hadn't been kidding when he said he'd put out stuff for me to remember."

The room was fair-sized, and the walls and flooring were of the same style as the other rooms. The only difference was a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, and a wholly-covered-in-stuff desk on the right wall.

You walked towards the desk, curious to know what was on it. You saw many items: books, papers, knick-knacks, a hockey glove, a photo album, a stick that looked to be from a maple tree, and a very old, leather-bound book entitled _The History of Amadallo_.

Naturally, the book was the first thing you grabbed.

"Alright," You walked over to the bed and sat on it, then began flipping through the paged of the book. "There has to be something in here that will help me remember. There has to be!"

You got past the preface pages and reached the table of contents. The first few chapters looked roughly like this:

**I. Discovery  
II. Amadallo's Early History  
III. Struggles  
IV. The Amadallen-French Alliance  
V. Early Victories  
**

You weren't in an immediate rush to discover anything specific; after all, you didn't even remember your origins. Being as those were the facts of the matter, you decided to start on the first chapter.

The book stated that the island country of Amadallo had been discovered and claimed in the mid-1500s by the country of Scotland (now a part of the United Kingdom). Amadallo's early days were rough, but even so, the harsh weather patterns and various attacks by European countries caused the little country to become strong. Even though Amadallo had ties to Scotland throughout its early history, it was still quite independent, and prospered well until a disease spread throughout the land. People, animals, and crops died, causing a great loss of wealth. The disease didn't last long, but even so, it had done enough damage to cause Amadallo to suffer. For a while, it looked as though the island country wouldn't survive much longer. But then, the country of France stepped in to help. After receiving a large amount of aid from the French nation, Amadallo soon proposed the idea of an alliance between the two countries. And so the Amadallen-French Alliance was born.

You paused your reading, puzzled. "So I had an alliance with Francis Bonnefoy, yet no one mentioned that?" You thought that was strange, but even so, you kept reading.

As Amadallo's ties with France strengthened, the country's ties with Scotland began to weaken. When the United Kingdom was formed, Amadallo lost nearly all ties with Scotland for a while. But even so, Amadallo was doing well without Scotland. With the help of France, Amadallo was prospering again, even becoming to be known as one of the richest European countries. Unfortunately, all of that changed when France and Amadallo began to discuss the possibilities of a marriage contract. At the beginning of the talks, both countries seemed to think that the idea was a good one. At the last minute, Amadallo decided that she wanted to keep her independence. The French government did not take that news well, and invaded Amadallo, severing all bonds of trust between the two nations for centuries to come. Amadallo ended up winning the fight against France, but had been enemies with the country ever since.

So that was why no one had said anything to you about Francis. They must have wanted to protect you from a country that had the opportunity to attack you while you were injured.

But if that was true, why had Francis been the first one to visit you in the hospital?

You closed the history book with a frown and laid it next to you on the bed. You had expected the book to answer your questions; and it had answered a few. But, yet again, you were left with more questions than answers.

"_, I'm making dinner downstairs in the kitchen." Matthew's voice echoed up at you from downstairs.

"I'll be there in a minute." You called back. Casting one last glance at _The History of Amadallo_, you stood up and exited your room.

* * *

_Author's Note: I finally worked up the time to get a chapter for this story done! Tell me what you think, and forgive me for not giving you all more history. Did you like this installment? Who else wants the Stanley Cup in THEIR living room?_


	5. Chapter 5

The next half an hour consisted of you and Matthew preparing dinner.

"I hope you don't mind if it's not that fancy." The shy Canadian nation said as he pulled a package of meat out of the freezer. "I had just planned to fry up some hamburger and make some kind of a salad or something."

You smiled and waved your hand dismissively. "You've done so much already; you don't need to worry about fancy food." A slight chuckle escaped your lips as you continued, "After all, anything's better than hospital food, right?"

Matthew laughed lightly. "You're right."

"I can make the salad for you if you'd like." You offered.

"Okay," Matthew gestured to the fridge. "There's lettuce in there, and feel free to use whatever vegetables and dressing you can find. Um, the bowls are up there," he pointed to a cupboard a little higher than you were tall, "and the cutlery is in the drawer over there." A slight look of nervousness passed over his face. "I-I mean, you don't have to do all of that if you don't want to."

You shook your head. "It's no problem, really."

With a slightly hesitant nod from Matthew, you began to prepare your part of dinner. _I guess there are pros and cons to Canadian kindness. _You thought to yourself as you worked. _They can be genuinely nice, but it can also get out of hand into worry and uncertainty._

Your mind began to wander as you got into the final stages of preparing your salad. Without even thinking, you had grabbed a bunch of things from the fridge and plopped them into your creation, almost like you had made salad like this before. Finally, when you were done, you added a bit of ranch dressing to the salad and then put it on the table next to Matthew's bowl of hamburger.

"Wow, _," Matthew said. He was standing beside where you were sitting at the table, looking at your newly-made bowl of salad. "That looks really good."

A delighted blush rose in your cheeks. "Thank you." You beamed, proud of the fact that Matthew was showing an interest in your salad. "Your meat looks pretty amazing too, by the way."

"Thanks." Matthew walked over to the seat facing you and sat down in it. "Go ahead and dish up. You look hungry."

With a bit of a start, you realized that you were famished. Reading history books and making salad sure made a girl hungry! Speaking of history books...

"Matthew," You began nonchalantly as you scooped some hamburger and salad onto your plate. "I saw that you put a history book in my room. A history book about me."

Matthew didn't show a sign of surprise. "Did you read it?" He asked.

You nodded. "Yeah, I read a bit of it." You poked your fork into your food and took a bite. Not to your surprise, Matthew's dinner tasted amazing. The meat was fresh and juicy, and there was just the right amount of seasoning on it, allowing its rich flavour to wash into your mouth at full force.

After swallowing your bite, you continued, "Apparently, Francis and I had quite the history together."

"You're right." Matthew said. His words surprised you. Even though he had shown a little bit of restraint on the subject earlier, Matthew was the first nation you had met who seemed even slightly willing to talk about Francis Bonnefoy. "You guys really loved each other." A hint of wistfulness entered Matthew's voice, and his violet eyes sparkled from behind his glasses. "It was really beautiful, everyone says. They thought that you'd be in love forever. But, then, you know..." Awkwardness seemed to have taken over Matthew again.

"I cut it off." You said, saying the words that Matthew had obviously thinking, but had been too afraid to speak aloud. "Do you know why I did it, Matthew?" You paused your eating, lying your fork down on the space next to your plate. "If I really loved him so much, why didn't I just marry him? I mean, it sounds like the only logical thing to do."

Matthew shook his head and sighed. "I don't know, _." He had also stopped eating for the moment. "I wasn't around back then - neither Francis nor Arthur had taken me in yet, so I really can't say. Some nations say that Francis was doing something behind your back. Some think that you just wanted to be independent for a bit longer. I don't think anyone knew that it would turn out to be so... gruesome."

"Yeah," You rested your cheeks in your hands, mulling over the new information that had just been entered into your mind. For whatever reason, you had 'broken up' with Francis. Was there any nation who would know the true reason for the separation? Or was that something you'd just have to ask Francis himself?

_**DING DONG!**_

Both you and Matthew stood up from the table at the same time.

"I'll get it," The two of you said in unison. Because of the awkward silence from before, the two of you only smiled hesitantly at each other. Matthew began to walk out of the kitchen and back into the foyer. Deciding that you weren't going to stand in front of the table forever, you slowly began to follow him.

"'Ello?" A voice said.

You paused in your tracks at the doorway near the foyer. That voice was familiar.

"Oh, hello there." Matthew's voice faltered. "I, um, I didn't remember that you were coming."

No way, it couldn't be him... could it be?

"I'm sorry, Matthew; would it be better if I left?"

"Uh, I..."

Not able to take the suspense any longer, you marched over to where Matthew was standing. Your e/c eyes widened when you saw who was standing at the entryway of the front door.

"Francis,"

* * *

_Author's Note: 1,014 words for this chapter. Woohoo! I had intended to make it longer, but it's 11 PM and I'm getting tired. Maybe I'll write more in the morning. I'm finally getting this party started. I know, I know... a dinner scene, really? It's so totally random. But it's what my fingers typed out, and it ended up working.  
Tell me what you thought of this chapter in a review!_


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